Queensbridge Park
by InkFairy
Summary: Elena Cassidy is in the park one day, playing with her dog and minding her own business, when a couple walks up and looses their dog on her. And that's just the first of many encounters she has with John, Harold, and Bear.
1. Post-One Percent

**Disclaimer: **Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team.

* * *

**QUEENSBRIDGE PARK  
Chapter 1: Pre-One Percent**

* * *

"What are we doing here, Finch?"

There's a touch of impatience in John Reese's voice as he, Finch and Bear walk through Queensbridge Park. He doesn't like being left in the dark, and Finch had been deliberately vague when he suggested they take Bear out for an afternoon stroll.

"Do we have another Number?"

Finch's answer takes him by surprise. "No, a date."

In his experience, the two are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

"You got me a date?"

Finch slows to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and Reese's eyes fall on the brunette kneeling on the grass nearby, playing with her golden retriever. He has already formulated three escape plans before Finch clarifies, "Not you. Bear. He needs a friend."

Bear and Reese share a glance before the golden retriever catches the Belgian Malinois' attention.

"Hello," Finch greets as he unclips Bear's leash. Bear barks to similar effect.

Before the brunette has a chance to reply, Bear is dashing off, his new friend in hot pursuit. She gives them a rather bewildered glance before she's pulled into the chase. Reese smiles briefly, but they're already halfway across the park.

"Good thinking, Finch," Reese commends, not a little relieved that Bear had been the victim of Finch's latest foray into matchmaking instead of himself.

Bear commandeers a tree branch and playfully entices his new friend to try and take it away. Tired of trying to keep up in her heeled boots, the young woman unclips her dog's leash as well. The two canines are so well behaved and have taken such an immediate liking to one another that she wonders if she should follow her dog's example and try to be sociable too.

She glances back and sees the two men have retreated to a bench at the edge of the park. She's about to join them and force herself to make polite conversation when the taller one pulls a small box out of his pocket and hands it to his companion.

_Well, that answers that question, _she muses with a slight smile as she turns her attention back to the dogs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the man with the glasses open the box and pull out a rather expensive-looking watch. _His birthday, perhaps? Their anniversary? _She realizes she's staring and tries to settle her gaze on something else. Unfortunately, there's no one else hanging out in the park on this cold winter day.

The man with the glasses holds the watch up to the light briefly before he sets it on the ground and stomps on it. Her jaw drops open, and she quickly turns around before she gives herself away. Their dog comes bounding up to her and promptly drops the branch at her feet. They stare at one another for a moment before she realizes he wants to play fetch. Pulling her cold hands out of her pockets, she grasps the branch and flings it as far as she can, sending both dogs racing after it.

Her eyes drift back to the couple on the bench. The taller man doesn't seem too upset that his gift had been so thoroughly rejected. His partner appears to be holding a piece of the watch, but she's too far away to make out what it is. A ring? She frowns. This doesn't seem very much like a proposal...

Both dogs come running back to her, the other dog once again dropping the branch at her feet. She throws it again, they chase after it, then return it to her, and they go through the whole process again. Her own dog, smaller and slower, will never emerge the victor, but that doesn't seem to dampen his enthusiasm for a rematch every time.

Her hands now numb from the cold, she sternly informs the dogs this is the last time. She puts her body behind the throw and feels an odd sense of accomplishment as she watches the branch sail farther than ever before. God, she needs to get out more.

She chances a glance at the couple on the bench, whom she's been dutifully ignoring for the last 15 minutes. She looks up just in time to see the taller man stand, then kneel in front of his partner. She gasps slightly, but, no, it's not a proposal. The taller man is just scooping the parts of the broken watch back into the box. She's oddly disappointed and more than a little confused.

A bark alerts her that the dogs are racing back toward her. She turns and sees that somehow her dog has finally got the branch, which he proudly deposits into his owner's hand.

Bear, challenged by this new development, tries to encourage her to throw it again. Unfortunately, despite her formidable throwing arm, Wavy Hair Lady is not as substantial as Tall Man, and his playful leap nearly sends her to the ground.

A strong hand catches her by the elbow and keeps her upright.

"_Foei, _Bear! _Afliggen!_"

The dog immediately drops to the ground, chastised. Still somewhat off balance, she looks up and realizes one of the owners, the taller one, is holding her up.

"Are you all right?" he asks, not letting go until he's sure she's steady on her feet again. She's taken aback by the sincerity of the question and the concern in his eyes. Rather beautiful, soulful eyes... from an objective point of view, of course.

"Yes, perfectly," she assures him. She reaches down and pats his dog's head to show she isn't angry. "He's so well trained! Was that... German?"

"If he were really well trained, he wouldn't go around tackling poor, innocent women." The shorter man with the glasses had joined them, his slight limp accounting for his slower progress. She frowns. Actually, his partner had crossed the distance from the bench rather quickly. And silently.

"I'm Harold," the shorter man continues, an easy smile on his face as he holds out his hand for her to shake. "This is John, and you've already met Bear."

"Elena," she supplies, as she shakes hands first with Harold, then with John. She's reminded of how cold she is when his warm, gloved hand envelops her own. She feels her golden retriever tiredly prod her leg. "And this is Bailey."

There's a slight pause, but before she can comment on the weather, John says, "We should get going."

Her brow furrows slightly at his abrupt announcement. His eyes keep scanning their surroundings as if he wants to look anywhere but at her. In complete contrast, Harold continues to smile warmly at her, putting her at ease.

"Thank you for playing with Bear."

"Of course. We're always making new friends, aren't we, boy?" The golden retriever just looks up tiredly, and it's obvious they should get going, too.

John goes down on one knee to clip Bear's collar back on, and she does the same with Bailey. He murmurs a soft command — too soft for her to determine what language it's in — but Bear obviously understands and jumps to his feet, tail wagging almost frantically. She sees John surreptitiously slip the dog a treat from his pocket. When he thinks she isn't looking, he does the same with Bailey.

"It was nice meeting you," Harold says in parting, as he, John and Bear turn toward the park's west entrance and she and Bailey turn for the east. "Perhaps Bear and Bailey will run into one another again."

"Yes, we come here often," she says. She looks ruefully down at her hands, scratched from throwing the tree branch. "I'll bring something more human-friendly for fetch next time. See you around, then?"

Harold smiles noncommittally. John doesn't say anything. He just nods, turns and starts walking away. After a goodbye bark to Bailey, Bear follows.

Somehow, she gets the feeling she'll never see them again, and she's inexplicably saddened by this realization. She stops on the pretense of adjusting Bailey's collar, but in reality watches their retreating backs through her hair. They're such an unlikely pair, yet they're completely in sync with one another, John shortening his long strides to accommodate Harold's uneven ones, John stepping slightly in front of Harold to shield him from an oncoming pack of cyclists.

She eyes them a moment longer, wondering if John will glance back at her. He doesn't.

"Such a pity," she sighs to Bailey as they begin walking again. She grins ruefully. "It's always the good-looking ones, isn't it?

* * *

"So which is it, Finch?" Reese asks as they exit the park. He glances back and can just make out the young woman and her dog reaching the other exit. "Is she the victim or the perpetrator?"

"Must it be one or the other, Mr. Reese?"

Reese allows himself a small smile. "You're never one to pass up the opportunity to kill two - uh - birds with one stone. Bear gets a friend, we get a new Number."

"Elena Cassidy, 27, works as a receptionist at City Hall. She lives alone in her childhood home — well, with Bailey, of course. She stops by this park whenever she visits her grandmother, an Alzheimer's patient at the Coler Goldwater Hospital on Roosevelt Island, just over there." Finch gestured toward the strip of land in the East River.

"She graduated from NYU five years ago but never put her art history degree to any use. Her grandmother fell ill around the same time, and Miss Cassidy took the first job she could find to support her."

"So what's the threat, Finch?"

"So you've decided she's the victim, Mr. Reese?"

Reese glances back again, but she's out of sight. He sighs, wishing Finch would get to the point so he can begin tailing her before she gets too far away.

"There's nothing remarkable about her, except perhaps for a bit of an office romance with one of the mayor's aides," Finch continues. "The Machine turned up no anomalies whatsoever about her, which is exactly why she and Bailey will be good playmates for Bear whenever he's feeling low."

"No anomalies?" Reese repeated skeptically. "Isn't that suspicious?"

"It may be difficult for you to grasp, Mr. Reese, but there _are_ a few people in the world who don't have any deep, dark secrets, who don't harbor any ill will toward anyone else. A very few," he adds, almost to himself. He can think of only one other person of whom the Machine could find no anomalies.

The shrill ringing of a pay phone stops them in their tracks. Finch limps over and picks up the receiver, while Reese keeps an eye out for anyone who might be watching too closely. After about 15 seconds, Finch hangs up and looks at Reese.

"Wrong number?" Reese asks halfheartedly.

"No, a new one, Mr. Reese."


	2. Post-Booked Solid

**Disclaimer: **Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team.

* * *

**QUEENSBRIDGE PARK  
Chapter 2: Post-Booked Solid**

* * *

After the new owner of The Coronet Hotel finishes going over the next month's events schedule with his new manager, he returns to the hotel bar. But there's no sign of his previous companions, except for two half-finished drinks abandoned on the counter.

With a bit of a smile, Finch slips on his coat and sees himself out. No one takes any notice of the man with the slight limp as he makes his way through the lobby and out the front door. The hotel: one of the last few places a person can retain relative anonymity, if only for a few hours or a night.

Though the hotel and the Library are only a mile apart going south on Lexington, it takes Finch three cabs and 30 minutes to make it back to HQ. Only the paranoid survive, after all. No pay phones ring as he makes his circuitous way back to the Library, so it seems he has the afternoon off. Too.

Bear had been overlooked the past few days, so he decides to reward the long-suffering canine with a trip to the park. A quick check on the GPS of Elena Cassidy's phone confirms, as expected, that she's visiting her grandmother at the hospital on Roosevelt Island, which means she and Bailey should be at Queensbridge Park within the hour.

Even though the Belgian Malinois is supposed to be on a diet, Finch doesn't see why Bear can't indulge this afternoon, seeing as his owner is doing the same. So on the way to the park, he buys Bear a doggie danish. He buys one for Bailey, too.

When they get to the park, Elena is busy parallel parking. It takes her a few adjustments to squeeze her Camry between two other cars, but she finally gets there. Bailey's paws have barely touched the sidewalk before he's pulling her in their direction.

"Bailey! What on earth—?" She digs her heels in to stop from colliding into Finch. "Oh, hello! Harold, isn't it? And Bear, of course."

"Hello, Elena." He adds a hint of uncertainty when he says her name to make it convincing.

Bear and Bailey are both straining at their leashes, so Harold suggests they set them free and watch them from the comfort of a nearby bench.

"I'm glad we bumped into you again," he says. "Bear really enjoyed his time with Bailey. He'd been a little depressed before."

"Bailey always gets a little low when he has no one but me to play with. You don't have any other dogs or pets? "

For some reason, Fusco comes to mind. Finch shakes his head. "No, but Bear didn't seem to mind at all, until about a month ago."

So they pleasantly exchange dog care tips and stories until Finch notices Elena's ears and nose are turning steadily redder from sitting still in the cold breeze coming from the river.

"Why don't we get something warm to drink?" he suggests, spotting a coffee cart at the park's entrance.

Elena agrees readily, and together they walk the short distance to the cart, where Harold promptly orders and pays for two coffees before she can get object.

"Thanks very much," she says as he hands her a steaming styrofoam cup. She wraps her hands around it, and feeling begins to return to her cold fingers. Normally she wouldn't let a strange man she barely knows buy her any type of drink, but she figures she's safe from any less-than-chivalrous designs with Harold.

As they walk back to their bench, Bear and Bailey bound over to make sure their owners are all right. Harold reaches into his pocket and produces two doggie danishes, which he feeds to both dogs after a nod of permission from Elena.

"Bear's technically on a diet," he explains, crumpling the wrapper and putting it back in his coat pocket. "But John is always slipping him treats behind my back, so he's gotten quite used to them."

"I could never put Bailey on a diet," she admits. Finch remembers the coffee in his hand and pretends to take a sip. "Bailey's seen me cheat on every diet I've ever started. It's a good thing dogs can't talk. The things they would say about their owners!"

Finch allows himself to imagine for a moment the secrets Bear could tell, and he's immensely grateful it wasn't a parrot Reese had decided to adopt. Hmm... parrot. That's one species he hasn't turned into an alias yet. He makes a mental note to construct a new identity for Harold "Parrott" — with two t's to make it more believable, of course.

He realizes she'd asked about Reese during his musings. "Oh, John's..." The automatic answer is "working," but as it's a Sunday and he doesn't want to delve into what it is Reese does for a living, he says instead, "with... a friend."

There's something strange in his tone that catches Elena's attention. Suddenly, John's absence seems much more sinister.

"A friend?" she repeats, trying get any indication from him on whether this is a good or a bad thing.

"Well, she's perhaps more than a friend," Finch admits, hiding a smile into his coffee. He accidentally takes a sip and almost chokes on the bitter taste.

Elena's mind is a whirlwind of confusion. Harold had just admitted that his partner was with someone else — _a woman?!_ — yet he doesn't seem at all concerned.

"Wait, you and John aren't together?" Elena blurts out before she can think it through.

Harold blinks, not quite understanding the question. And Elena realizes she'd come to a terribly wrong conclusion about the nature of their relationship.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize — I just assumed — which, obviously, I shouldn't have — that you two were — well..." Blushing furiously, she turns away, trying to gather her thoughts and any dignity she has left.

She chances a look at Harold. He's frozen in shock, his still-full cup of coffee threatening to spill into his lap.

"It's the dog that threw me off," she says, reaching over and gently tipping his cup into a more upright position. "Not many men own a dog together unless they're, well, together."

Of course, that's not _all _that had thrown her off. She considers herself very good at reading people, and everything about them had screamed couple. She's strangely disappointed.

"Bear is John's dog," Harold quickly says.

"Really? I wouldn't have thought... I mean, he seems quite fond of you. Bear, that is," she clarifies. "Okay, I'm going to stop talking now. And possibly forever."

He takes pity at the embarrassed, stricken expression on her face. "But I suppose, to the outside observer, it would be a logical conclusion to make," Harold says hesitantly. "But John and I are just friends," he adds firmly.

Elena just needs this awkward conversation to end before she says something more — if that's even possible — embarrassing. She calls Bailey over and clips on his leash.

"Elena..."

"I've really got to be going," she lies. She takes two steps toward her car before she stops short and turns around again. "I really hope nothing I've stupidly said today make things awkward for you and John. And though I suppose the chances of you wanting to ever see me again are pretty slim, Bailey and I are here around this time every Sunday."

She turns sharply on her heel and marches off before Finch can say anything, leading Bailey for a change in her haste to get away.

Bear barks his goodbye as Wavy Hair Lady and Bailey disappear around the corner, then looks up at Glasses Man.

"Not a word to John, understand?" Finch says sternly as he tosses out his barely touched coffee.

Bear doesn't, but he wags his tail energetically and eyes Glasses Man's coat, wondering if there are more treats hidden in his pockets.

* * *

Elena doesn't start the car right away once she and Bailey are inside. She sits in the driver's seat, both hands on the steering wheel, and laughs for a good three minutes until there are tears in her eyes.

"Oh God, the look on his face! But you thought they were together too, didn't you, boy? _Anyone _would have thought..." Calming down, she shakes her head, then pulls down the mirror to fix her makeup. "I hope I haven't scared them away. For your sake, Bails."

But that's a bit of a lie, too. As disappointed as she is that Harold and John aren't partners, a small part of her is relieved.

"No, Elena Marie Cassidy," she tells her reflection sternly. "You are not allowed to fall in love with tall, dark, handsome men you thought were gay."

Saying it out loud makes it seem even more ridiculous, so she dissolves into laughter again as she turns on the ignition and begins the process of un-parallel parking her car. In the backseat, Bailey wonders if maybe his mistress has gone just a little bit crazy.

* * *

The next morning, Reese arrives at the Library at 10 a.m., which is much later than usual. Finch raises an eyebrow as the ex-CIA operative appears silently in the hallway, but the look the man in the suit returns is pure innocence.

"Morning, Finch," Reese greets cheerily (for him). He pitches his empty coffee cup across the room, and it lands neatly (of course) into the small trash can behind Finch, who spares him an unimpressed glance.

Because he doesn't want to recount his conversation with Miss Cassidy — and because he doubts Reese will be forthcoming about the time he spent with Zoe at the hotel — Finch decides to forgo any mention of his and Bear's trip to Queensbridge Park.

"Any new Numbers?"

Finch stands and grabs the two photos waiting at the printer. "Two rather interesting ones, Mr. Reese," he says as he limps to the board and tapes them up. "Meet Michael Cole and Samantha Shaw."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing!** NiennaTru, elaine0510, sashatoy

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	3. Post-Relevance

**Disclaimer: **Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team.

* * *

**QUEENSBRIDGE PARK  
Chapter 3: Post-Relevance**

* * *

With a bit of a smirk on her face, Shaw walks backward toward the ambulance with her gun still trained on Reese and Finch. She salutes them mockingly before she swings herself up into the driver's seat and turns the key Leon had so thoughtfully left in the ignition

Reese and Finch turn to look at one another.

"Well, she certainly makes an impression," Reese says, grateful she hadn't thought to take his gun, too.

"Do you think she'll call us a taxi?" Finch asks hopefully.

They watch the ambulance accelerate and disappear around a curve in the road.

"I doubt it," Reese says, "but why don't you just use your other phone to call one?"

The ex-CIA agent gives the billionaire an innocent look. After a moment, Finch gives in and reaches into his other pocket, pulling out his back-up phone. "No signal," he sighs.

And so, Reese, Finch, and Bear set off toward the cemetery gates at a leisurely pace.

* * *

Elena Cassidy winds her way slowly through the gravestones of Calvary Cemetery, Bailey at her side and her arms full of flowers. Her vision is limited by the memorial wreaths she's holding, but she stops short at the edge of the road just in time to let an ambulance race by, moving at speeds far above the 10 mph speed limit.

She tightens her hold on Bailey's leash in case he decides to make chasing ambulances a new hobby. Strange, ambulances aren't common in cemeteries. The majority of people there are past the help of emergency response.

They continue on to the Cassidy plot, and one by one, she plants the wreaths by the three headstones there: a heart for her mother, a ribbon for her father, and a standard circular one for her grandfather.

"Well," she says, sitting back on her heels once she's finished. She's never been very good at this whole visitation thing. Before she had become a permanent patient at the hospital on Roosevelt Island, her grandmother had always been the one to say a few solemn, heartfelt words at the gravesite.

"I suppose I should tell you what's going on in my life," she starts hesitantly. "Though I guess you probably already know ... so this is all completely pointless and stupid!" Her voice seems so very loud compared to the silence of the cemetery. She quickly looks around to see if there is anyone near enough to hear. And, of course, there is.

* * *

Finch's phone beeps when it finally finds a signal.

"That's strange," he says, frowning at the screen. "It says Miss Cassidy is nearby."

The next second, Bear pulls himself free from Finch's lax grasp and races the short distance to Bailey and Elena, just visible behind a headstone. After playfully nipping at his friend, Bear turns his attention to Wavy Hair Lady. He dances circles around her, then proceeds to lick her face, which the other pretty lady had seemed to enjoy. With an entirely inappropriate shriek of laughter, she tries to dodge his kisses to no avail.

Reese whistles sharply. Bear and Elena both freeze at the sound, the former immediately turning tail and returning to his owner.

"We're very sorry," Harold says, as John offers her a hand to help her to her feet. She takes it, as well as the handkerchief Harold offers her.

"It's not a big deal," she assures them, wiping her face dry. "I was, er... finished?"

He smiles kindly at her, and any awkwardness she might have felt after their last disastrous conversation evaporates.

But before she can make an exceedingly dull comment about the weather and how they should perhaps invest in some earmuffs before John froze his pretty ears off, the sound of a vehicle revving up the hill catches their attention. Reese and Finch are relieved it isn't Shaw in the ambulance, returning to take them up on Finch's offer, but Elena panics when she catches sight of the groundskeeper making his rounds.

"We should leave," she says, gathering Bailey's leash. "Dogs aren't allowed here."

She heads for her car, then hesitates, realizing there's no other car parked nearby.

"We took a cab here," Harold explains. Actually, they'd taken three, but that's beside the point.

"Hey, what are you doing here with those mutts?" the groundskeeper yells out his window as he screeches to a halt on the road nearest to them. He lumbers out of his truck. "Lady, I told you not to bring that dog of yours here again!"

It's Finch's turn to panic when Reese starts toward the groundskeeper, but when Elena reaches out to stop him by placing a placating hand on his arm, he stops instantly at her light touch. Though she quickly lets go to put two hands on Bailey's straining leash, Reese stays in place.

"Never mind, let's just go," she says, hauling Bailey toward her car. "I'll give you guys a ride."

They pile in and somehow Finch ends up in the passenger seat, with Reese, Bear, and Bailey squished together in the back. Elena suppresses a smile as she speeds away, leaving the groundskeeper in a cloud of exhaust. Her car's not exactly small, but with John in the back, it looks positively tiny. The dogs, however, seem to relish being in close proximity to him. She would, too.

"Anywhere I can drop you off?" she asks, shaking the completely inappropriate thoughts out of her head. "I'm heading for Midtown."

Finch gives her the address of the condo he'd just bought to serve as their newest safe house, also conveniently in Midtown. Reese scratches behind Bear's and Bailey's ears as he listens to Finch make small talk with Elena, who explains that she works as a receptionist in City Hall, which, of course, they already know. His own ears prick up when she asks what they do for a living, and he wonders which of their aliases Finch will pick.

"I work in insurance," Finch says. "We both do."

So it's Harold Wren, then. And John ... Reese frowns. None of his aliases work in insurance.

"Insurance? Sounds..." Elena flounders for an adequate description.

"Boring?" Harold suggests, with a small smile. "It is, most of the time, especially on my end. John handles the more ... exciting parts of cases, like tracking down the people who have hurt our clients."

Reese lets out a breath that could have been a snort.

"Do any of them give you trouble?" she asks John, to include him in the conversation.

"Some."

Finch nearly rolls his eyes. Their last 'client' not only shot Reese with a semiautomatic rifle, she had pointed a gun on both of them not one hour ago.

"But insurance is mostly about protecting people before bad things happen to them," Harold adds.

"If insurance could really do that, then no one would ever get hurt again," she points out.

"That is the idea."

Elena gives him a bemused look. "That's rather idealistic, Harold."

He shrugs. "I'm a rather idealistic man."

She glances in the rearview mirror. "And you, John?"

He shrugs. "I do whatever he tells me."

Luckily, they arrive at their destination before Elena can question the exact dynamic of their work relationship, though she looks more than slightly curious. She certainly didn't take Bailey for walks in the park with her _boss_.

"Thanks so much for the lift," Finch says, handing her a suspiciously thick-looking $20. "For gas," he explains.

She refuses to take it. "Nonsense. I'm going out of town for the weekend, and I'm dropping Bailey off with a friend. You were on the way."

"If there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to let us know," Finch says, reluctantly pocketing the money.

Reese knows it's a semi-empty promise. She doesn't even know their last names, let alone their phone numbers, which they change every four days anyway, but he wouldn't put it past Finch to add an extra '0' to her bank account balance just for the ride.

"How about you just come by the park with Bear whenever you're free on a Sunday?" she suggests, reaching out to grab Bailey's collar when he tries to follow John out the door. "And bring those doggie danishes you brought last time," she adds.

"Of course," Finch says smoothly, ignoring the sidelong glance Reese gives him. "Have a nice trip."

"Oh, I won't," she assures them, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "But if I do survive, I'll see you on a Sunday."

And with a last wave goodbye and a quick beep of her car horn, she drives off.

"'Last time'?" Reese asks as they head in the direction of the Library. "You didn't say you'd seen her again."

"I took Bear to the park while you were at the hotel with Miss Morgan," Finch says, neatly turning the spotlight right back on the ex-CIA operative. "Miss Cassidy and Bailey happened to be there."

Reese wants to point out that since it had been a Sunday, Finch surely had known she would be there, and even if this fact had slipped his mind (unlikely), his app would have informed him of her presence. But he doesn't want to give the billionaire another opportunity to bring up Zoe again, so he changes tact.

"Insurance is your thing, Finch, not mine. What happened to John Rooney, assets, or John Wiley, hedge fund manager?"

"I could have made it John, bellhop at The Coronet," Finch says dryly.

That ends that conversation.

They pass three payphones on their circuitous route back to the Library. They give each ample opportunity to ring as they walk past, but all remain silent.

"Breakfast?" Finch suggests.

Reese nods, and they walk past the Library and toward the nearby Lyric Diner. Just as they're about to round the last corner, Reese throws an arm out in front Finch, catching the older man hard in the chest.

"What—?" Finch splutters.

A familiar car is parked right in front of the diner, and leaning on the side of her car, waiting, is Elena Cassidy.

Reese's suspicions, already higher than most people's, shoot through the roof. Why does this girl keep showing up wherever they are? How is it possible that Finch's Machine could find no anomalies on her? Why—

Elena pushes herself off her car as a police cruiser pulls up next to her and the cop gets out.

And why was she now hugging Lionel Fusco?

"Thanks so much, Li," she said, once they had separated. She opened the back door, and Bailey jumped out. She gathered his leash and handed it to Fusco. "You sure it isn't any trouble?"

"With old Bails here? Nah," Fusco assured her as he grinned down at the golden retriever. "Lee'll be thrilled."

She handed him a grocery bag. "That should be enough for the week. Don't feed him too much people food."

Fusco grinned at her this time. "You know me better than that."

"All right, but if he gets sick, you can keep him for another week."

"Where you off to, again?"

She grimaced. "The Hamptons, with Ken's family."

"For a _week?_"

"I know," she groaned. "If you hear anything come through on the radio about a mass murder in the Hamptons—"

"—I'll help you hide the bodies," Fusco promised. "But that's what you get for dating pretty boys who use too much hair gel."

Reese feels Finch's eyes flick to him, and he has to suppress the urge to run a hand through his own gelled hair.

"Ken's not the problem," Elena objects. "He doesn't care about all that. He could have joined his father's company, but instead he works in City Hall because he believes the mayor—"

"Sorry, sweetheart, no matter how clean they look, politicians get their hands dirty. Believe me, I know," he added darkly. "You can do better than him, Ells."

"You offering, Lionel?" she teases. "Come on, don't be like that. He's a great guy once you get to know him." She glances at her watch and starts at the time. "Crap, I've got to go. I was supposed to be at his apartment five minute ago."

"Do the other mayor's aides live in penthouses too?"

Instead of answering him, she turns to her dog. "You be sure to be a very _bad_ boy for Lionel here, ok? Make sure to chew all his shoes and slobber all over his face while he's sleeping!"

"Yeah, you have a great time with your future mother-in-law, too," Fusco says, as she throws herself into the driver's seat. "Make sure you and Ken-doll decide on how many kids you want before you get there. You're quitting your job to take care of all five of them, right?"

She flips him the bird as she drives off.

Fusco is still chortling as he takes out his phone. A second later, Reese's phone rings.

"Hello, Lionel," Reese drawls. "What can we do for you today?"

"I followed Simmons to that HR meeting last night," he said, sounding rather proud of himself. "Took those pics like you asked me to."

"Then why don't you send them to us," Reese suggests. "And I'd move your leg, Lionel."

With that parting advice, he hangs up. Lionel looks down and jumps back just as Bailey begins to lift his hind leg. Quickly leading the dog to a nearby fire hydrant, Fusco turns every which way while Bailey relieves himself, trying to spot Reese. But he, Finch and Bear are already walking down the street, back toward the Library.

* * *

"No new Number?" Reese asks, later that week. For the second day in a row, no tell-tale documents decorate the board.

"No, net yet," Finch replies from the corner of the room, where he's brewing himself a cup of tea. Reese can detect a hint of worry in the billionaire's expression. "But I have figured out Miss Cassidy's connection to Det. Fusco."

Reese takes a seat in front of Finch's computer and begins clicking through the various files pulled up on one of the screens.

"Miss Cassidy was raised by her father and grandmother in Brooklyn," Finch narrates. "Her mother died when she was just two years old in a car accident, her father died when she was 15 in the line of duty."

"He was a cop," Reese realizes, coming to a police academy picture from the early 1980s.

"Yes, Det. Cassidy was Fusco's first partner and mentor when he began his career in the 88th precinct."

"Small world," Reese comments.

"And it's getting considerably smaller."

Finch points to another computer screen and pulls up one of the pictures Fusco had taken of HR. Though he hadn't gotten a good picture of the man Simmons was meeting inside, he had gotten several good shots of the other henchmen standing guard outside. Finch had enlarged and highlighted the face of the man in the driver's seat of the black SUV that HR's contact had arrived in, so that they now could clearly see his clean-cut features and blond, perfectly coiffed hair.

"Kenneth Parker, one of the mayor's aides," Finch explains. "Elena Cassidy's boyfriend."


End file.
